In Memoriam
by B.A. Tyler
Summary: A solemn occasion brings the members of the 4077th together again after 15 years.


**In Memoriam****  
**

_(Author's Note: Mini-spoilers abound in here, for numerous episodes. If you haven't seen many episodes and you have an aversion to spoilers, beware.)_

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* * *

May 1968__  
_  
As she pulled her rental car into the long driveway, Margaret suddenly remembered that it was Memorial Day.

How appropriate.

She was the first to arrive. Radar, forever the company clerk, had made the arrangements, thoughtfully renting a house so they would all be together. _Tripping over and annoying each other, _she thought cynically, before she cast the negativity from her mind. _No,_ she decided. _It's been so long since we've seen each other, we'll be delighted to spend a couple days together.__  
_  
She hoped.

The house key was under the welcome mat as she'd been told. She stepped into the house, an old Tudor-style home, elegant and large… and large was exactly what they'd need for the small army that was expected (she chuckled a little at the "small army" analogy). It was certainly clean and inviting, but she didn't like how empty it felt. Soon enough it would be filled with people, she told herself.

She walked up the creaky staircase, selected a bedroom—the advantage of being the first to show up—and began to unpack. She was nearly done when she heard a knock on the door downstairs, followed by the sound of it opening and a call of, "Hello? Is anyone here?"

She'd recognize that voice anywhere: Father Mulcahy. "Father, it's Margaret Houlihan!" she called down. "I'm upstairs unpacking! Be down in a second!"

Margaret descended the steps, her mouth curving into a grin as she took in the sight of the good Father, looking like he hadn't aged a day in all the years that'd passed. And that simply didn't seem possible. But perhaps living a clean, holy life really did do wonders for a person's appearance.

"Father," she said as she approached him, "it's wonderful to see you." They embraced and Mulcahy's hat fell off his head and to the floor in the process. She leaned over and picked it up for him.

"This is such a beautiful house," he said, looking around at the stately living room. "Radar made a good choice."

"Yes, he did. There are supposedly enough bedrooms for all of us, at least that's what he said. I'm afraid I didn't go around counting."

"Well if need be, I can always bunk in this living room here. It certainly looks more comfortable than my old tent back at the 4077th," he joked, a sparkle in his eye.

"What wouldn't be?" she said with a laugh.

They walked up the stairs together and Mulcahy explored, counting bedrooms to make sure there would be enough for all those coming before he finally chose one as his own.

Margaret decided a shower was in order before the rest of the gang showed up, and while she was in there, soaping, shampooing, and singing softly to herself, four more of the guests arrived.

* * *

"Beej!" Hawkeye exclaimed as he put a hand on the dashboard to steady himself. "You wanna slow down? The turn is coming up, according to the directions."

"OK, OK, I'm slowing," B.J. said, and he actually did, instead of merely humoring Hawkeye. They'd been together just from the airport to here, and they'd already fallen back into their old married-couple routine. As if the years had dropped away.

Hawkeye squinted at the street sign ahead and pointed, "There. That's our turn, right there."

B.J. took it, and they both saw the enormous house looming ahead at the same time. "Wow, that's some place!" B.J. said.

"Well it had to be big enough for the whole gang," Hawkeye said. "As many as are coming. Do we know how many are coming?"

"Last time I spoke to Radar, everyone had agreed to. Except for Frank. But that's not a surprise, is it?"

Hawkeye laughed. "Hardly."

"So that means, what? Seven total… unless there are spouses coming, then more."

"You told me Charles got divorced. I don't think Margaret's married. We know Father Mulcahy isn't! I think Klinger's coming solo."

B.J. eased up on the gas and parked in the oversized driveway. "Guess we'll find out soon enough, Hawk. We're here."

* * *

Klinger had picked up Radar at the bus station in his own rental car, and the two of them were a mere five minutes behind B.J. and Hawkeye's arrival.

"I wish Soon-Lee had come, Klinger," Radar was saying as they approached the house. "I'd'a liked to have met her."

"She needed to stay home with the kids. But she knew how important this was for me—to come for this. She insisted." He shook his head sadly, surprised by how suddenly tears had welled up in his eyes. "But I wouldn't have missed it for the world. This is a sad time for us."

"Don't I know it," Radar said gravely. "I've been crying ever since I heard."

"He was like a father to you… well, to all of us, really."

"Yeah, but it's almost like he and I got closer after the war, you know? We talked a lot once he got back home, and visited each other and stuff."

"I know," Klinger said, trying to keep his emotions in check. He was behind the wheel of a car, and he couldn't allow his vision to blur with tears. There would be time for crying later.

He smoothly maneuvered the car into the driveway and cut the engine. "This is it. Gonna be kinda weird, huh, seeing everyone again?"

"Boy, I'll say. I'm nervous. Why am I nervous?"

"I don't know, but don't worry. I am, too." They got out of the car and headed inside.

* * *

The six of them stood around the living room, uncharacteristically quiet, waiting for somebody to take the initiative and break the silence. It was insanely awkward for six people who'd lived together for years, had seen each other in all kinds of situations and moods, had helped each other through all kinds of traumas.

At first there had been hugs and handshakes and laughter, people talking over one another with greetings like "How are you?" and "Great to see you." But then after a while, silence had befallen them… uncomfortably.

Finally Father Mulcahy piped up. "Is Major—uh, Dr. Winchester still coming?"

"Yeah," Radar replied. "He did say he might not get here until late tonight, but he's still coming."

"Poor chap has gotten divorced, I understand?" Mulcahy asked.

"Yes," said Margaret, "last year. I've spoken to him recently, though, and he seems to be doing all right."

"Why isn't Frank coming?" Hawkeye wondered.

Margaret balked. "How should I know?" She took a breath, calmed her voice. "It's probably for the best, though, don't you think?"

Hawkeye gave her an understanding smile and nodded. "No doubt."

Radar gestured up the staircase. "There ought to be enough bedrooms for everyone, plus three bathrooms, which I hope is enough."

"Well," said B.J. with a wink, "we survived the 4077th accommodations, I'm pretty sure this will be a dream in comparison."

Hawkeye quipped, "I never did get used to taking a shower alone after I got back to the States."

That broke the ice and everyone laughed. Suddenly the years melted away, and nobody felt awkward or jittery. They were family, after all, and back together after a long break. It was like going home.

* * *

Margaret was lying in her bed, weary from the traveling, but wound up because of the reunion with her campmates. Her mind was spinning. It'd been 15 years since the war ended, and she hadn't seen a single one of them until today. Except for Winchester, she wasn't really in touch with any of them either. It felt weird, but it also felt good. Comfortable and soothing. Nice to know she had somebody to grieve with, people who understood.

Down the hall, Father Mulcahy knelt by his bed and said an extended prayer, asking for strength for tomorrow, and acknowledging the blessing of being with his friends.

Klinger phoned Soon-Lee before retiring for the night, telling her everything was fine, if upsetting, and that he missed her.

Downstairs in the kitchen, B.J. was in the middle of making a couple of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, listening to Hawkeye talk about his small, homey practice in Crabapple Cove, when grief swept over him like a storm, seemingly coming from out of nowhere. He dropped the knife onto the countertop and put a hand out to steady himself. Sobs shook his body. Hawkeye was instantly at his side, pulling him into an embrace, running a hand over his back. "It's all right, Beej. Go ahead and cry. I've got you."

Radar sensed Charles's arrival a few minutes before he heard the car in the driveway. He listened as the door slammed, then he went out to greet the major. The last of the guests had finally arrived. Radar almost felt like he'd been transported 15 years back and halfway across the world.

* * *

"The funeral is at 11 o'clock," Radar was saying to the group the next morning at breakfast. "And this morning, the lawyer called to say that we need to see him after the service. He said there's a letter for us."

Hawkeye looked up from his eggs. "A letter?"

"Uh huh," Radar confirmed. "And before you ask, no, I don't know what it's all about. This is the first I've heard of it."

Hawkeye and B.J. exchanged looks and shrugs. The others merely blinked and poked at their breakfasts. Everyone was solemn this morning, with the funeral only hours away.

Saying goodbye was always hard.

* * *

The service was mercifully short, as Colonel Potter had wished. No fanfare, he'd instructed, keep it short and simple. His wife had predeceased him by two years, but his children were in attendance, of course, and they thanked each member of the 4077th for coming.

"It was kind of you to make the trip," they said. "Hannibal, Missouri, can't be your idea of a vacation spot, so we appreciate your coming."

The seven former campmates stood in a row and held hands in the graveyard as they watched the coffin being lowered into the ground. Father Mulcahy said a prayer, Margaret tossed a rose onto the casket, and Radar said he wished he'd thought to bring a Zane Grey book along to leave with the Colonel, something to keep him occupied. That brought fresh tears from all of them.

"He was a fine, fine man," Charles whispered.

Afterward, they approached the lawyer as a group. Hawkeye found himself in front, taking the lead, saying, "We understand there's a letter of some kind?"

The lawyer reached into his jacket pocket and handed over an envelope, saying, "Just before his death, Sherman asked me to personally deliver this letter to his campmates from the 4077th M*A*S*H. I don't know what it says, nor did anyone, I suppose, except for Sherman."

Hawkeye took it and held it very carefully, as if it would break in his hands. He turned to his six friends, and said, "When we get back to the house…?"

They nodded agreement.

* * *

They sat around the living room as Hawkeye nervously turned the envelope over and over in his hands.

"Pierce, are you going to open it or not?" Charles asked impatiently. "It can't possibly be worse news than the dear old boy being dead."

Margaret clucked at him. "That's in poor taste, Charles!" she scolded.

"Well it's true," he shot back.

B.J. said gently, "I actually have to agree with Charles, Hawk. Let's get it over with already."

Hawkeye tore open the envelope and, with shaking hands, began to read the contents out loud. He could almost hear the Colonel's voice as he spoke the words.

"My dear friends," he began, then cleared his throat around the lump that had formed there. "If you're reading this, I have passed on, and ain't that a kick in the head."

Everyone chuckled softly. That was Colonel Potter, all right.

"I hope I'm addressing every last one of you: Hawkeye, B.J., Margaret, Klinger, Radar, Charles, Frank."

Hawkeye stopped and looked around the circle. "With the exception of Burns…" he said, realizing for the first time what an accomplishment it'd been to get everyone here, on such short notice, from all parts of the country.

He went back to reading the letter. "I would like you all to look around at each other, at the faces of the people you worked with so long ago, people you bonded with like no others, probably, in your life. I want you all to appreciate each other. What we had there, at the 4077th, was truly special. I'd been in three wars, you all know that, you heard me say it often enough. The Korean conflict was different, because I'd never been that close to my colleagues before. Oh sure, I had buddies before that, in wartime and in peace. You remember the tontine I told you about, and that group of guys I drank a toast to. Of course I was very close to them, of course they were my dear friends. But I would say you people were even closer to me, more dear to me."

Hawkeye had to clear his throat again. Nothing easy about reading this, that was for sure. B.J. handed him a glass of water, and he nodded thanks and took a drink. Then he picked up where he left off, breaking the sorrowful, heavy silence in the room, "I hope you all realize the things we accomplished over there, and the friendships we formed over there, are yours forever. Be proud of what you did, what all of us did. And don't ever take each other for granted. I'm sorry it is taking cold, seemingly impersonal words in a letter from my lawyer to tell you what I should have said to your faces. We were dedicated, we were driven, and we were damn good. But more than any of that, what I want to say to you now—what I never came out and said during my lifetime because I'm a man who has difficulty expressing his feelings—is that I've never known a better group of people in my life. I love all of you very, very much."

Brushing a tear from his cheek, Hawkeye concluded, "Sherman T. Potter." He set the letter down on the coffee table with a sigh. Then he lifted his eyes, looking around at each of his former campmates and their contemplative expressions. Margaret was crying, so was Klinger. The others looked too numb to do even that. Finally Hawkeye muttered, "Shit, let's get drunk."

* * *

Radar had brought cards and poker chips, so they moved to the dining room, sat around the table, and played poker. B.J. and Hawkeye had brought beer, Charles had brought brandy, and Margaret made cheese sandwiches to try to counterbalance the drinking.

They all got drunk anyway.

The poker raged on for hours. Hawkeye had a winning streak going for a while, then Klinger got the hot hand.

"You remember that woman doctor, that Inga…?"

"Hey, remember the bathtub from Abercrombie and Fitch? Holy cow, that was nice…"

"Remember when we lost the last page of that mystery novel? _The Dog Barked at Midnight?"_

"It was _The Rooster Crowed at Midnight_. I still have that book. In about 20 pieces."_  
_  
"I won a contest once, Soldier of the Month. Got to go to Tokyo."

"That was so unfair, Radar! I had that contest in the bag!"

"You cheated, Klinger! You stole the answers to the test!"

Hours later… the chatter was still nonstop, and all the beer was gone, the sandwiches too. Everyone sipped brandy temporarily while Klinger ran out to get more beer before the stores closed.

Father Mulcahy suddenly had all the luck at the card table, and Margaret was nearly in the hole.

"Remember how that crazy Colonel Flagg thought Margaret had been abducted?"

"I wonder whatever happened to that guy."

"If there's any justice, he's in a padded cell by now."

"Has anyone heard from Sidney Freedman?"

"I spoke with him a couple months ago. He's doing great. Thriving practice in Baltimore."

"Oh jeez, remember when the Colonel's horse got colic? And we had to… you know…?"

"Right around the same time I had to have my appendix out."

"That's right!"

"I can just hear Frank frantically screaming 'Air raid, air raid!' Can't you?"

Hysterical laughter around the whole table, even from Charles, who had never met Frank Burns in his life.

"Colonel Henry Blake, one of the kindest, sweetest souls I've ever known," said Father Mulcahy after the laughter diminished. "May he rest in peace."

"Amen," said in unison.

"Trapper John McIntyre, my best friend before I met my even bester friend." Hawkeye raised his beer can in toast. "I love him no matter what."

They all drank to that.

Well past midnight. The poker continued, but the drinking had finally curbed some. Margaret was out of chips but was still watching the game and engaging in the chatter. Radar had fallen asleep in the middle of a hand, but was back awake again. Klinger had spent the better part of an hour explaining how he'd taught himself to design and make his own dresses.

"Loved your Scarlett O'Hara gown, Klinger."

"That was one of my best."

"Personally, I liked the Cleopatra get-up."

"Oh God, that _general_! We thought he was going to put us in jail! Remember that? But it turned out he was Potter's crony, and that joke they played on us…?"

"That remains, to this day, the best practical joke anyone's ever played on me," declared Hawkeye.

B.J. propped his chin on his hand and stared at his friend. "I do believe you've just challenged me…"

Hawkeye could only laugh.

At 3 o'clock in the morning, they finally called it a night. They would all be departing the next afternoon, to start on the long journey back to their respective lives. They stood up from the table and looked around at each other, doing exactly what Colonel Potter had asked them to do in his letter: appreciating one another.

Then they said their goodnights, and retired to their rooms for one final night in Hannibal, Mo.

* * *

Shortly after noon, the somber group began trekking suitcases out to the awaiting cars in the driveway. Klinger dropped his on his foot and yelped "Shit!," then apologized profusely to Father Mulcahy, who'd been standing nearby.

That task done, they stood in the living room again as a group for one last goodbye. Despite the camaraderie over the past couple days, despite Colonel Potter's letter imploring them to love one another and not take one another for granted… it seemed very likely they would never meet again. Not as a whole group like this.

Margaret said, "What a sad, sad occasion this was, but what a wonderful time I had seeing my men again."

"May God bless all of you. I will keep you in my heart and in my prayers," from Father Mulcahy, with a tip of his hat.

"It was unexpectedly delightful to be with you all again," admitted Charles with a half-smile on his face. "I shan't forget any of you, nor this time of communion with you, which reminded me of our kinship."

"That kinda talk's too fancy for me," piped up Klinger. "I just wanna say, all of you guys are tops, and if any of ya's ever find yourselves in Toledo, by all means, look me up!"

Radar added, "Yeah, same here, if you're ever in Ottumwa. It's not as boring a place as you probably think it is. We have a mini-golf course and an ice cream parlor, and there's a movie theater the next town over."

Hawkeye smiled at that, then looked to his left. "Beej? You have any parting words?"

"Just that Colonel Potter had it right. We _are_ a family. Not all families see a lot of each other, and sadly, that's the situation we have here. But I know we all love each other just the same, and we'll come running right away if anyone ever needs anything, because that's something else that families do." He turned to Hawkeye, "Right?"

"That's right." Hawkeye paused briefly before adding, "You all know I'm in Crabapple Cove, Maine, home of the best lobsters on the planet. Please feel free to visit anytime. I want to know when your grandkids are born, when you get married, or when you get a promotion at work, or just when you get good news that you'd like to share with your friends. I want to hear from you often, so keep in touch."

They all hugged and slapped each other on the back, until finally the goodbyes simply could not go on any longer. They walked out to their cars, waving and chattering the whole time, making every second count.

Just before Hawkeye got into the passenger side of his and B.J.'s rental car, he called out, "In the immortal words of Sherman Potter, I've never known a better group of people in my life." And for one of the few times in his life, he gave a salute.

Then the engines started up, and one by one, the cars slowly puttered out of the driveway of the large Tudor house. The exodus began.


End file.
